


Oh Hey There

by royal_chandler



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royal_chandler/pseuds/royal_chandler
Summary: Because it's just not college if your room hasn’t been the inadvertent destination spot of at least one intoxicated person.





	Oh Hey There

The loud crash behind Steve jerks him awake, half of his face ungluing from the keyboard of his laptop, and nearly startles him out of his chair. He takes care to save his chemistry text that had cost way too much money when his springy grey cat, Hayuk, knocks it off the desk and scurries to the bottom bunk, hissing.

"Uh, you’re not Rhodey."

Steve jumps again when he realizes that the crash was actually caused by the heap of a person underneath his open window, using Bucky’s set of drawers for support.

Lurching out of his chair, Steve hefts up the textbook, ready to swing if necessary. 

“What are you doing in my room?”

“Hold on there, Quick Draw,” says the stranger with bright brown eyes and a dark fringe that Steve recognizes but can’t exactly place. He rises slowly with his hands up. The guy has a few inches on him but Steve thinks he could do take him still. 

In slightly slurred speech, he says, “Before you decide to bring blunt force trauma into the equation, I’m not burgling you, okay? I just uncharacteristically miscalculated the number of windows.”

Steve considers him. “This is something you do often? Scaling dormitories?”

“For Rhodey, yeah, my best friend. He lives in 313 and he’s pretty good about it. A saint. I'm totally unworthy.”

“That’s down the other side of the hall. This is 327.” Steve informs him before dropping his textbook back on to the desk, deeming the intruder harmless and tipsy. “Also most people use the front door, you know. Less chance of anyone having a heart attack.”

“I’m not most people, handsome.” The grin is a trademark and Steve suddenly recalls dozens of magazine covers and TV interviews, the groundbreaking of the Stark Engineering building last semester. Steve’s always known that he attends school with the famous Tony Stark but he’s never actually ran into him before. As far as first impressions go, Steve is underwhelmed but the same can’t be said for Hayuk because she’s curled herself around Stark’s ankle, apparently over the disruption, with her bottle-brush tail pointed high.

"Oh hey there," Stark coos, hiccuping midway. His grin melts into a genuine smile. It looks good on him, with how his face lights up. "You are a beaut and totally not allowed in housing. What’s your name?”

"Her name’s Hayuk," Steve answers cautiously. He glances at the clock on the wall and sees that it’s almost two. "Listen I—"

"And yours?" He regards Steve expectantly, crouching to take Hayuk into his arms. She trills when Tony strokes behind her ears. "I could keep calling you handsome all night if you prefer. Or Captain Badass, about to clock me while you’re breaking rules left, right, and center."

"I-I’m not breaking the rules on purpose.” Steve refuses to blush, the sputtering is bad enough. “She was wandering around the caf a couple months ago starving and I couldn’t just leave her. Not that’s it’s any of your business, Stark." Steve winces immediately because the name leaves his tongue with too much familiarity, echoes of students who probably don’t know the freshman any better than he does.

Stark’s laugh is self-deprecating. Shaking his head, he says, “I’m always at a disadvantage on this damn campus.”

It’s too edged for a woe-is-me act and Steve feels a little guilty even though he shouldn’t because it’s his room for pete’s sake but he can’t help it. He knows that rich people can have problems just as well as anyone else. He decides and puts out a hand. “Steve. Steve Rogers.”

It’s eyed for a moment but Stark—Tony—eventually takes it, and gives a strong shake, like it’s important. Then suddenly he’s at ease and plopping on Steve’s futon, careful with Hayuk in his lap. Teasing in a friendly tone, “So, Steve, what the hell are you doing alone on a Friday night?”

"Um, well, I’ve got a paper due." Steve lamely gestures to his laptop which is back on screensaver. "Not having too much luck, unfortunately."

"Are you surprised? It’s Friday. Homework does not happen on Fridays. You’re living in a second-year hall. You should get that by now. It’s practically immoral."

"We all can’t be geniuses." Tony’s brow shoots up curiously and Steve hastily adds, "I just prefer finishing my work as soon as it’s assigned. Especially for the classes I’m not too fond of."

After taking the time to look around the room, spying movie posters, Steve’s sketches, Bucky’s tripod tucked in a corner, and the canvas propped up against the wall, Tony guesses correctly, “You’re an art major.”

“Hence Hayuk.”

“That explains everything. Absolutely.”

Amused, Steve snorts.

“What’s your paper on?” Tony asks abruptly, eyes dancing. He continues before Steve even has a chance to answer. “Chemistry? Genius that I am, I kicked its ass last spring semester. I could help you out and maybe you could explain Hayuk to me over coffee.”

That catches Steve off-guard, has his pulse picking up pace. He’s probably sporting red ears. “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to do that.”

Tony aims a puzzled gaze his way, lips pulling a frown. “You don’t want my help?”

“I don’t _need_ your help,” Steve clarifies. “I have an A in the class.”

“Oh. Well, what do you want?”

“For explaining Hayuk to you?”

“For my climbing through your window.”

“Why would I want—” Steve cuts himself off, understanding what Tony means, what he’s come to expect. Steve tries not to let sympathy or any emotion related to it cross over his features. He’d hate that and he has a strong sense that Tony would too. He keeps his voice neutral. “You don’t owe me anything. This is a university. It happens.”

“You almost clobbered me with your textbook,” Tony argues.

“I think that I’m allowed to be surprised!” Steve counters. Smiling good-naturedly, he says, “Just say that you’re sorry, mean it, and we’ll call it even, okay?” There’s no trap door here, Steve wants to tell him.

Tony stands—has a funny bit with trying to get Hayuk’s claws out of his jeans—and extends his hand, mimicking earlier. Steve takes the offering. “I’m sorry."

“Apology accepted,” Steve says before releasing his hold. He shifts on the balls of his feet and silently questions his life choices because he had not planned on the next words out of his mouth. He rubs at the back of his neck. “My, um—well my roommate is with his girlfriend and probably won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon and it’s late. You can stay. I mean, if you’d like. Or I can walk you back to your room or to your friend’s room, wherever you’re comfortable.”

Tony stares at him for a moment and it’s unsettling, what those eyes are starting to do to Steve’s insides. “Are you real?”

Steve shrugs. “Terrible composite of awkward, clumsy, and stubborn. Very real. Plus my cat likes you so there’s that. It may not seem like it but she’s particular.”

“The same cat that you found rummaging through the dumpster behind the cafeteria is particular?” Tony asks, reaching down to pet her once more.

Steve doesn’t bite.

“Your futon is nice,” Tony says finally, smiling.

“I’ve slept on it, liar,” Steve says with a laugh and goes to grab extra pillows from his closet.

**fin**

**Author's Note:**

> [Maya Hayuk makes beautiful art](http://mayahayuk.com/) and at one point I actually did have a cat named after her. She was one of the four cats that my friends and I unofficially adopted during our time in college. There was also Dionysus, Mother Theresa, and Drams (short for Dramamine because he had an exemplary talent for running into everything within sight.) This is dedicated to Hayuk and her brilliant sass.


End file.
